


The Memory of Touch

by elaine



Series: In the Vicinity of Love [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-10
Updated: 1999-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 19:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11133531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: Dreams are disturbing Ray's sleep, but are they really dreams? Or are they memories? This story is a sequel toIn the Vicinity of Love.





	The Memory of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The  
Memory of Touch

# The Memory of Touch

 

 

 

Damn! It’s four am and I’m awake again.

It’s happened every night for the last eight days. It’s the same dream, at least, I think it is. I can’t remember it, but it feels like the same one. Every night it wakes me and I can never remember. God, I hate when that happens.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could remember. At least I’d know what I was dealing with. It oughta be about Carver, ‘cause that’s when the dreams started, but I know it’s not. It doesn’t feel like that. If it were about Carver, I wouldn’t mind so much. I mean, he kidnapped me and left me to die tied up in some rat infested cellar. After something like that, a few bad dreams would make sense, right?

Right... except they’re not about Carver.

I get out of bed and wander around my room. Touching things, making sure everything’s there. I don’t know why, except that I feel like I’ve lost something. Something important. This is what happens. Every night. Damn it!

Finally, I go back to bed. Everything is where it should be. Everything but me. I can’t sleep. That feeling of loss won’t let me alone. It’s driving me crazy. Part of me doesn’t want to think about it, but enough is enough. I’m tired. I’m sick of not being able to sleep. I can’t do my job properly. If I’m not careful, Welsh will be sending me to the police shrink. I’ve seen him watching me. He thinks it’s because of Carver. I wish it was that easy.

So I guess I’d better think about it.

It started the morning after Fraser rescued me. I don’t remember much about that, except that I felt safer than I’d ever felt since I got too old for Ma to cuddle. I remember Fraser holding me, that’s about all. Then I woke up and it was the next day and I was in Fraser’s apartment. In Fraser’s bed, for God’s sake, naked as the day I was born.

Fraser must have done it, who else was there? But he never said anything, just lent me some clothes, sweatpants and a T-shirt way too big for me, and made me some breakfast. I had to drink that God-awful tea. He insisted. Said it was good for me. A couple hours later I went home and let Ma fuss over me.

It was that night the dreams started. If they are dreams. Sometimes it feels more like some kind of memory than a dream. The memory of being touched, and held, and feeling safe. And then I wake and I’m alone. And I feel like I’ve lost something important.

It can’t be what I think it is. That’s just wishful thinking and there’s no point in that. There’s no way I wanna go there. No way at all.

Because something’s changed between Fraser and me. Just listen to me... I hardly ever call him Fraser anymore. Unless he does something to annoy me, it’s always Benny. And that started eight days ago too, and I don’t know why, except that it’s like there’s a distance between us now.

I didn’t realise straight away, but then I noticed that Fraser didn’t come around the Precinct so much. When he did, he was being real quiet. He hasn’t told me an Inuit story in eight days. He doesn’t ask me for rides home any more.

Maybe I should talk to him.

I dunno... maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t want to make things worse.

*

I knew this was gonna happen. Welsh’s grounded me. I’ve got a stack of paperwork a mile high and I can’t concentrate. Just thinking about getting through all this is giving me a headache. I’m so damn tired. I rub my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I need some sleep. I put my head in my hands for a while. That was a big mistake. When I look up Welsh is standing right in front of my desk. He tells me to go home. I try to drag up the energy to argue, but the truth is, I’m too tired to care that my job’s going down the toilet.

That’s when I catch a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye. Fraser.

Welsh follows my look and calls him over. Then he tells him to take me home and look after me. My jaw drops. Does he have any idea how that sounds? He must do. Even Fraser gets it, he’s turning the colour of his uniform.

Shit.

I can’t take any more of this. I get up and walk out, not bothering to check if Fraser is coming too. But when I get to the Riv, he grabs my arm, politely, and tells me he’ll drive. Yeah, right. I don’t answer him. He gets in the passenger seat.

At the apartment I just stop the car and get out. One way or another, this is gonna be settled. I walk up the stairs. He follows me. We don’t talk.

We don’t talk once we’re inside, either. Fraser makes the coffee and we drink it. I haven’t been inside this rat trap since the day I woke up in Fraser’s bed. Has it really been that long?

I’m staring at the bed. I don’t remember turning my head, but suddenly I realise I’ve been staring at it for a while. I look away. Catch a glimpse of Fraser’s face. It’s beet red. He stares down into the coffee cup.

Something’s happened between us, but what? Have I given myself away and Fraser’s too polite, or too embarrassed, to tell me? God, if only I could remember. Fraser’s not going to do anything, that’s for sure. Whatever happens, it’s up to me.

I’m shaking. I turn to stare at the bed again. Those memories... if that’s what they are... being held, feeling safe, loved... how real are they? I figure there’s only one way I’m gonna find out.

I go over to the bed. Start getting undressed, my back turned to Fraser. Maybe he’s not looking. Or he just doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. There isn’t a sound at first. When I take off my shirt there’s a strangled noise from behind me. I ignore it. Kick off my shoes. Pull off my socks. Drop my pants and shorts together and get into the bed.

At last I risk a look. He’s still sitting at the table, staring at me. Only now his face is white as that stupid piece of string he wears around his neck.

Benny?

I want to say it aloud, but I can’t speak. I lie in the bed and shiver. I can’t look at him now, so I close my eyes. Pretend to sleep, though I doubt he’ll fall for that old trick.

It feels like an eternity before I hear the chair scrape and footsteps, so quiet, coming over to the bed. Oh God.

He sits on the edge of the bed and I open my eye, just a fraction. He traces the veins on the back of my hand with his fingertip. What the hell is he doing that for? After a while he just puts his hand over mine and holds it. It feels good... comforting.

In the end, I open my eyes and look up at him. He’s staring down at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face is completely blank. I try to smile at him, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of it.

Or maybe I did. Whatever. He starts to undo the leather straps. It’s a helluva job, but he’s got this determined look on his face. It doesn’t take him long, plenty of practice, I guess. Now he’s down to his T-shirt and jodhpurs. Soon he’s got rid of the rest of it. I’m still staring up at his face. I can’t believe this is happening.

He gets into bed beside me and wraps his arms around me without a word. It feels... fantastic. My head is spinning.

It feels... familiar...

I’m lying in his arms. Literally, lying in his arms. He’s holding me close, my head on his shoulder. I put my arms around him and we just lie there, like that, without moving, without speaking. Almost without breathing.

Oh yes. This is good.

Oh yes...

Memories come trickling back. Waking like this. Feeling safe. Protected. Loved. Waking again and again, in his arms. Kissing him. Being kissed by him. Waking alone, in this bed, next morning and finding a polite stranger standing on the other side of the room. And only the memory of his touch to haunt my dreams.

I lift my head to look into desolate blue eyes staring out of a blank face. He licks his lips nervously.

Just do it.

No.

He looks so scared. I’m afraid of what will happen if I go too fast for him. Without thinking, I take his hand and slide his fingers into my mouth. His reaction surprises me. He tenses against me and gasps. His face isn’t blank now. It’s almost too painful to watch. But I don’t have to watch for very long. He buries his face against my throat and I hear him sob, just once.

I tighten my arms around him, pulling him closer and suddenly he’s pressed right up against me. I can feel his skin against mine. Our legs tangle and I take advantage of that to move even closer. His cock brushes against mine and we’re both hard. Just like that.

His fingers slip from my mouth and he begins to touch my face. I kiss the only part of his face I can see, just below his cheekbone, and he moans. Our bodies are moving against each other and I want to make this last forever. But there’s no chance of that. I hear him gasp and feel the hot wetness between us. A moment later I join him. It’s all over in just a few minutes.

Now, suddenly, I’m not tired anymore. But Benny, damn it, is fast asleep in my arms. I don’t really mind. It feels good to hold him like this. Better than I ever imagined it could be. And when he wakes we can set about making some new memories.

 

 


End file.
